Point of View

WC Parent Letter to Washington College Administration on Callout Culture

November 13, 2019 by Spy Desk 3 Comments

I am writing to express my outrage at the cancellation of the SCE production of The Foreigner.

I hold a Ph.D. in International Relations, with a focus on creative approaches to conflict resolution. My research centers on the use of theater in societies in and post conflict. I have worked in Northern Ireland and the Middle East, with groups that use performance and storytelling to facilitate discussions of difficult and painful topics across societal divides.

The claim in your November 8th email to parents that “this decision does not diminish the months of hard work, collaboration, emotion, and thoughtfulness that students invested in the production—nor does it lessen all that they have learned through those efforts” is a claim blatantly without merit. Those students are devastated, and while they have certainly learned something from the experience, I doubt it is the lesson you had in mind. The student whose thesis this is has had what was supposed to be the culmination of her college career dismissed, and your refusal to allow the performance – and the planned post-show panel discussion – to go ahead robbed both the project’s participants and the wider community of a chance to openly discuss controversial topics. You missed the broader teaching moment, and furthermore opened up the students involved to accusations of racism which, because the community has not seen the play, they have no way to refute.

The College website states that the College’s enduring values are “critical thinking, effective communication, and moral courage” and claim that these values “move the world”. Setting aside the concept of moral courage, which is a highly subjective claim, this decision has removed the possibility of critical thought and assessment and eliminated the possibility of effective communication by making the conversation about rumors rather than actualities. You have denied the community the agency to make up their own minds and to participate in informed discourse. Whatever your intentions, this was an act of censorship.

While you may be under the illusion that the decision was for the good of the community (isn’t that always where censorship starts?), you should think very carefully about where this path leads. What other projects will you cancel or suppress because the work is upsetting or uncomfortable to members of the community? What sort of education are you providing when you remove the choice to engage in debate or an exchange of ideas?

It is a supreme irony that your decision to cancel this production came a scant week after former President Obama’s speech in Chicago cited the dangers of “call-out culture” and the social media practice of “cancelling” unpopular or controversial views. However well-intentioned your decision might have been, however much you feel it may have been made with an eye towards prioritizing inclusiveness and articulating ones perspective with an effort towards “finding greater understanding, effecting positive change, and strengthening communication among all of our students, staff, and faculty”, your actions have done the opposite.

By canceling both the performance and the post-show panel discussion you have denied the majority of the community the opportunity to articulate – or even form – their own perspectives. How can a community develop greater understanding and positive change if there is no informed debate?

I am fully aware of the challenges involved in university teaching in the 21st century, with the confluence of identity politics and the need for cultural sensitivity. In this instance you and, by extension, the College have failed in your primary responsibility – namely, to educate. There are many ways that this could have become a truly transformative teaching moment. You could have included the students who comprised the cast and crew in the conversation prior to making the decision to cancel the performance. You could have challenged the director and her design team to come up with a creative costuming work-around for the Klan’s white robes, or suggested an adaptation of the play to reframe the villains of the piece. And you could have invited the students involved in both the production and the complaint to meet in a mediated environment to share their perspectives in person, an exercise which would have had a chance of achieving the greater understanding and strengthened communication towards which your email claims you strive.

This is my challenge to you: commit to a campus-wide forum to address what has happened and to work on the divisions in the college community that this experience has brought to light. Draw on the creativity and teaching excellence available to you and devise a way to foster actual communication around difficult topics. Engage the entire college community in this endeavor. Do not look to the students involved in the play to lead this, this is a job for the faculty and staff. Effecting real change takes hard work and imagination and commitment and time. It is much easier to cancel a performance and hope that the ensuing uproar dies down. You now have a chance to transform an experience that has been deeply painful and troubling for many members of the immediate and extended college community, the opportunity to create something positive from a debacle. I hope, for the sake of the college community, and for the sakes of the communities into which your students will enter upon graduation, that you rise to this occasion. You have a chance to “move the world”. Take it.

If, on the other hand, the College truly intends to go down the path of suppression and summarily silence members of the community, it is imperative that you clarify that position on your website and in the information provided to prospective students. Students who are uncomfortable with the specter of censorship and upset by the threat of having their intellectual freedoms curtailed should be able to make an informed decision when choosing an institution of higher education.

Sincerely,

Talya Leodari

Talya Leodari holds a Ph.D. in Politics and an M.A. in International Relations from Newcastle University and B.A. in American Studies from Bryn Mawr College. She is currently the Director of Programming & Outreach for The Great Barrington Libraries in Barrington, Massachusetts.

Angels Among Us by Jamie Kirkpatrick

November 12, 2019 by Jamie Kirkpatrick 1 Comment

Two days ago, I fell into a manhole. I never saw it coming but it must have seen me because as soon as my foot hit the unsecured cover, it opened wide its maw and in I tumbled. Stunned, shocked, scared: “My leg!” I screamed; I thought one was broken, maybe both. My torso lay above ground, my legs were suspended below. The pain was intense but I managed to pull my lower half out of the hole and waited for the bees to stop stinging me. I turned my head and saw a face I didn’t recognize—an African-American man with a beard and wearing a red flannel shirt was kneeling next to me. He had soft brown eyes, a quiet voice, a calm, reassuring presence. “Did you hit your head? Is your back ok? Can you move?” he asked. I thought I could so he helped me roll over, then gently helped me to my feet. I leaned into him, our eyes locked. I could stand; my legs could bear my weight. For the first time that morning, but not for the last, I thought to myself, “There are angels among us.”

I was surrounded by friends: kind, worried, solicitous. “Should I call 911?” “Should we call an ambulance?” “Notify the police.” I could feel blood running down both legs and now those bees were really starting to sting but I was pretty sure nothing was broken. I was felt faint but the good Samaritan in the red flannel shirt was gone. I remember looking around and seeing him in a car across the street with his family watching me. I gave him a thumbs up and whispered thank you before he drove away. I never saw him again.

We had been visiting my brother and sister-in-law in Rehoboth and my wife helped me hobble back to their home. She had me stand in a bath tub and helped me remove my pants, socks, and shoes. There were multiple messy cuts and abrasions as well as a large hematoma above my left shin. Gently, she hosed my legs with warm water and I watched ribbons of blood snake away down the drain. I took deep breaths. The bees really started to sting again when she poured hydrogen peroxide on my wounds. She gently daubed them clean, slathered on an antiseptic ointment, and wrapped them in gauze. I wasn’t scared anymore and for the second time that day, I knew there were angels among us.

There were a few people waiting in the ER when I limped in. I told the duty nurse that I had fallen into a manhole. She looked at me for a long moment, then asked for my name and date of birth. I fumbled in my wallet for insurance cards but she didn’t need them, just my driver’s license. She fixed a band around my wrist and told me to take a seat. It was just another Sunday in the ER but I thought I glimpsed another one of the angels among us.

When you’re in pain, waiting is hard, but pretty soon, another nurse called me into the triage room and checked my vital signs. She laughed when I told her I had fallen into a manhole, but she was both amazed and sympathetic. She made me feel better, even laugh. One more angel among us.

Some more waiting, but then I was admitted to a bay in the ER. A doctor came in, weary but gentle and kind. He helped undress me and gave a low whistle when he saw the extent of my wounds. He asked me to wiggle my toes and smiled when I could. He examined the large hematoma over my tibia and ordered a precautionary X-Ray. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he said, “but let’s make sure.” He was optimistic and he made my wife and me feel the same way. Yet another angel among us.

A technician with a portable X-Ray machine appeared and took four images of my left leg. She was gentle and professional. She told us the doctor would be able to read the X-Ray in three minutes and wished me well. I could tell she meant it and then she disappeared, one more angel among us.

In a blink, the doctor was back with us. The X-Ray was negative. He put his hand on my shoulder and told me I would be fine. He would send in a nurse to clean and redress the wounds and give me a tetanus shot “just to be safe.” Before he left to see another patient, we thanked him. He said it was his third Sunday shift in a row, but that was fine. Next week, he was taking his family to visit Japan.

Another nurse came in right away and began to clean and disinfect my wounds, She was impressed by my wife’s field ministrations. Her name was Jillian and she was a happy young woman who knew what she was doing. When she was finished, she rolled me onto my side and administered a tetanus shot in my behind. “There,” she said. “You’re free to go.” Another angel among us.

I was stiff and sore, too banged up for a long drive back to the Eastern Shore so we changed plans and returned to my brother and sister-in-law’s home. They were happy to have us back. I rested for an hour, then joined family and friends for dinner, leg iced and elevated, and oh-so-grateful to be whole and surrounded by people who loved me. A whole band of angels.

Our nation is divided, angry, scared, and confused. We seem to have fallen into a manhole. But believe me: there are scores of angels among us.

Yesterday was Veterans Day. I woke up thankful for all the sacrifices made on our behalf by all the veteran angels among us.

There are a million angels among us. Sometimes, you just have to fall into a manhole to see them.

I’ll be right back.

Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer with homes in Chestertown and Bethesda. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy magazine. “A Place to Stand,” a book of photographs and essays about Landon School, was published by the Chester River Press in 2015. A collection of his essays titled “Musing Right Along” was published in May 2017; a second volume of Musings entitled “I’ll Be Right Back” was released in June 2018. Jamie’s website is www.musingjamie.com

WC President Landgraf Responds to Cancellation of The Foreigner

November 12, 2019 by Spy Desk 14 Comments

The following email was sent to the Washington College community yesterday evening by President Kurt Landgraf to respond to criticism that the liberal arts institution had censured freedom of artistic expression by cancelling a student production of the play entitled “The Foreigner.”

Dear Campus Community,

Last Friday, we announced a decision to cancel two scheduled public performances of “The Foreigner.” This play—written in the 1980s and frequently produced at educational and professional institutions across the country—centers on a group of people who feel “othered” by society in various ways, including premarital pregnancy, neurological differences, and age. Over the course of the play, these individuals build a community together through listening, learning and, humor, but their bond is threatened by the xenophobic anger and self-proclaimed entitlement of two other characters. In the climax of the play, the community of disenfranchised protagonists rises up to easily defeat the bigoted antagonists (who reveal themselves as members of the KKK). It is through the portrayal and defeat of these villainous characters that the play conveys its message about the evils of xenophobia, the dangers of “othering,” and the importance of empathy.

We made the decision to cancel the performances after listening to members of our campus community who told us that they were deeply hurt and affronted by the existence and portrayal of characters associated with the KKK—even though these characters are clearly portrayed as villains and are easily vanquished by the play’s protagonists. Our intent in cancelling the production was to prevent further harm to members of our community who already feel marginalized. However, the decision to cancel the play has been interpreted by some as a form of censorship on the part of the College. Censorship is anathema to the core values of Washington College, and this was never our intent.

It is our job, as a liberal arts institution, to create a space where difficult issues can be faced head-on and thoughtfully discussed. The production and subsequent cancellation of this play have raised important questions about how we, as an institution, choose, contextualize, and discuss potentially controversial material—on our stages, in our classrooms, and beyond. To that end, we are currently discussing how we can best present the story and message of this play in a way that enables the campus community to have a productive, thoughtful conversation. We will work with all of the relevant student groups, staff, faculty, alumni, and Board of Visitors and Governors to determine the best way to accomplish this and to find the most constructive path forward.

President Kurt Landgraf
Washington College

Letter to Editor: Open Letter to WC Provost & Dean

November 12, 2019 by Spy Desk Leave a Comment

Provost DiQuinzio and Dean Feyerherm;

Your outrageous decision to cancel the senior capstone production of the award-winning play ‘The Foreigner” at the very moment that the students were about to perform the dress rehearsal was rash, ill-justified and shameful, bringing dishonor to yourselves and to the academic institution that you represent. I am writing to you, and copying the President of the College and the Chair of the Board of Visitors & Governors, to demand a public apology to the theater students and faculty who have been traumatized and victimized by your actions.

Your November 8, 2019 email to parents and the all-campus email that preceded it only compounded your error and illustrate that your actions were made in ignorance and in haste. You were unfamiliar with the play and cannot have taken the time to read and discuss it with those in the theater department who have, or to understand the way that the issues it raises about bigotry and intolerance are addressed in this production. You have now joined a single institution – a high school in Sioux Falls, South Dakota – in censoring and cancelling production of Larry Shue’s award-winning play, which continues to win acclaim for its numerous revivals since its Off-Broadway debut in November 1984.

Your glib statement that parents should understand your decision in the larger context of an ongoing and evolving effort “to be a community that prioritizes inclusiveness and the ability to articulate one’s perspective with an effort toward finding greater understanding, effecting positive change, and strengthening communication among all of our students, staff, and faculty” is belied by your cowardice and refusal to recognize this as precisely the kind of teaching moment that could have created the “brave space” that would advance those ideals. Instead, you gutted a segment of your community – my daughter among them – and made them targets of uninformed accusations of racism from those who objected to the play and who now associate them with racist ideas simply for being part of this manifestly not racist production. You privileged “Callout Culture” and denied members of your community the opportunity to constructively engage with difficult or uncomfortable ideas. Shame on you!

Your assertion that your act of censorship “does not diminish the months of hard work, collaboration, emotion, and thoughtfulness that students invested in the production—nor does it lessen all that they have learned through those efforts” is grossly disingenuous. What they have learned may indeed be valuable, but it is not the sort of lesson that a responsible institution of higher learning would seek to engender. They have learned that their voices do not matter, for they were not among the “members of the student community” with whom you claim to have consulted. They have learned that they may be subject to the whim of arbitrary and capricious authority. They have learned that their investment in a college-sanctioned theater production can be undone whenever a community voice objects to any of its content. They have learned that they will not be protected from the backlash that your decision has empowered.

You compelled your faculty colleagues to cancel the play while the students and director were on stage for the dress rehearsal, and stood silently watching their grief and distress. You did nothing to comfort them. You did nothing to address their pain. Your only concession was to allow a closed performance of the dress rehearsal, and neither of you congratulated them on their performance. You did not even offer to come and help them strike the set. You did nothing to anticipate or ameliorate the trauma that you have caused. Your belated meeting with the director and cast on Saturday only elicited an apology from you when they told you they needed one.

I call it cowardice. I call it cruel. I call it censorship and abuse of power. I call it intellectually dishonest and a mockery of the educational and community values you cite and that Washington College purports to espouse. This is your mess to clean up. Do not sweep it under the rug. Own what you have done and apologize publicly for the unintended but undeniable harm you have caused.

Timothy B. Abbott

Out and About (Sort of): Can You Spare a Hello? By Howard Freedlander

November 11, 2019 by Howard Freedlander 2 Comments

It may be a family member. It may be a friend. It may be a co-worker. It may be a neighbor.

It may be a memory.

Like most national holidays, Veterans Day—the 11th of November—passes by quickly. Town, cities and veterans’ organizations will pay homage. American flags will seem more prevalent. Patriotism will be on display.

Though some may discourage saying “thank you” to a veteran for fear of acknowledging a special class of people, sincere gratitude is always appreciated. It’s a form of wholesome human interaction. It means something to the speaker, a way of connecting to an experience with which you may be unfamiliar.

Veterans deserve recognition. They served our nation, often under adverse conditions. They endured cold, wet and hot weather—and sometimes hostile enemy fire—far from home. They left loved ones and friends for deployments to parts of the world formerly unknown to them.

Many of my friends served in combat zones. Unless prompted, they typically are reluctant to discuss their experiences. Some witnessed the death of wartime comrades. Some wonder why they survived, and others didn’t return home to live to old age.

Some bemoan war.

To follow my own instincts, I plan to call a veteran or two. While I may not express thanks, I will acknowledge their service. I will ask questions. I will probe their feelings and memories, carefully, of course. I will acknowledge their sacrifice of familiar comfort.

I’ve known veterans my entire life. I always sensed an undeniable pride, a profound sense of accomplishment. Though they always talked about their children, weddings and births, they rarely failed to mention their military service. It simply didn’t matter how much they had achieved in life in terms of material success or accumulation of power; they usually found reason to talk about their life as a member of the uniformed services.

Their pride was always close to the surface.

I’ve always been interested, in my avid reading of obituaries, to note how almost unfailingly they mention a person’s military service, whether the deceased was a waterman, shop owner or corporate executive. Service to country matters to veterans and their families.

As it should.

We Americans might wish we didn’t have veterans. That peace and tranquility permeated our fractious world. The goal is noble. Unfortunately, history has proved it’s unattainable. Best intentions run opposite to the human condition.

War is inevitable.

War is grueling and gruesome.

War hardens your soul. It may be harder to cry and show emotion.

Thank God our country has been blessed with men and women willing to serve and families willing to be supportive.

So, today, take a few moments to speak with a veteran. Respect and honor their service. They are peacemakers.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

Snapshots Of Daily Life: Tides by George Merrill

November 10, 2019 by George R. Merrill 2 Comments

“The Trump Administration formally notified the United Nations on Monday that it would withdraw the United States from the Paris Agreement on Climate Change, leaving global climate diplomats to plot away forward without the cooperation of the world’s largest economy.” New York Times, November 4th, 2019

Not long ago I looked at the weather report. I saw an alert had been issued by the weather service that coastal flooding was imminent.

The news alarmed me. I went to the window to see how the tides were affecting the shoreline of my property. We are close to the water. The signs were ominous. The tide had already topped the edges of the shoreline and was reaching much higher than normal. It was encroaching on the lawn, creeping up to the house. When I looked at the tide tables I discovered that flood tide would be at four o’clock. It was only noon. The water continued to rise. All I could do was watch. My lawn was newly replanted only days before. Would it survive an inundation of brackish water?

Inordinately high tides occur regularly around the Chesapeake. They’ve become higher now and are flooding more small towns and lowlands. I had accepted this as a way of life here on the shore. This time, however, with my newly planted lawn, the stakes were higher. It’s strange how something as critical to my survival as the issue of global warming is, can seem so remote until it creeps up on my front lawn. I don’t “get it” easily.

Over the last few years I have had a dream, like a vision. Recently it’s grown more vivid. It’s not the nocturnal sort dream or vision, but the kind of dream that hope inspires. It’s a daydream of sorts, but not an idle one. I cling to it.

This dream returns again and again and I pray about it. Things happen in the natural world around me that seem so mindless and destructive and I feel sad. I pray more fervently that the dream I have will come true.

I dream that one day our abuses of the environment (and of each other) will finally create such a backlash that deniability of the abuses will be out of the question – no more equivocations. This time what happens will be immediate to us, closer than the Arctic’s cascading ice shelves falling into the sea thousands of miles away or the chemical laden streams that catch fire as if they were heralding an apocalypse.

In those days, I dream that we will have as the director of the Environmental Protection Agency a man or woman who actually loves the natural world, the kind of a person suggested in the Genesis myth.

God, having created the world thinks his creation is good, “very good.” God has a stake in its future according to Genesis. He appoints someone he trusts to look after it. This is a sacred trust. “The Lord God took Adam (human kind) and placed him in the garden of Eden to tend and to keep it.”

What does it look like to love the natural world, to tend it and to keep it, and I would add, to be its voice, its advocate? I believe it looks something like naturalist, W. H. Hudson’s tender description of a day in late April when he came upon “a shallow lakelet or pond five or six acres in extent which I had discovered some weeks before hidden in a depression in the land among luxuriant furze (an evergreen shrub with flowers), bramble, and blackthorn bushes.”

He then writes, “I sat on a branch and rested for a long time enjoying the sight of that rare unexpected loveliness. Two or three warblers we’re flitting about among the alder leaves within a few feet of my head and a dozen at least we’re singing within a few feet of my head. I listen again to the birds then let my eyes rest on the expense of red and cream-colored spikes before me, then on the masses of flame colored furze beyond. This springtime verdure and bloom, this fragrance of the furze, the infinite blue of Heaven, the bell like double note of my little feathered neighbors and the alder trees; surely this is enough to satisfy my heart.”

This new “Adam,” this Agency Director, as I imagine him or her, would have this same passionate love of the earth in their hearts, and could not be driven from their task by power brokers. This director will be wise in the matters of the material world. This person would have feet on the ground (earth, not macadam) and an eye on the sky (weather, not high-rises); they would passionately love the natural with the fervor Mr. Hudson had. Love like that may save us and heal our planet

This director will have a realistic grasp of the needs of an industrial society in which she lives. He will, like Solomon, do justice. He will weigh the reasonable requirements of industrial production and still advocate for the earth. He or she will know that the natural world is not a commodity just to be bought, sold, and traded; this new Adam understands the natural world as a sacred trust, a planet to love, tend and care for.

Too Idealistic? Too Visionary? I sure hope so. That’s precisely the missing piece in managing our present environmental realities. Currently, I see no vision, no ideals, just expediency and greed.

Since that day of the flood advisories two more extremely high tides came and went. The weather finally grew cooler and with it returned intense blue skies, filled with gray-bellied white clouds and a brisk northwest wind of about forty knots. The northwest winds around here drive the tides out, making the ebbs unnaturally low. The tides ebbed and flooded, and for a while I felt safe. The feeling is illusory.

My world, the one in which I once thought tides were predictable and would remain always within bounds, had returned but only briefly. The world of my yesterday is long gone, and even higher tides will return as they must, because they are responding in the only ways they can to the deaf ears on which their warnings have fallen.

“Listen to the earth and it will teach you,” Job instructs us. Few listen.

In an Instant by Angela Rieck

November 7, 2019 by Angela Rieck 3 Comments

Last week I received a daytime call from my daughter, her beautiful smile flashed on my iphone. Immediately I knew there was a problem, my daughter is too busy to call me during working hours. I was prepared for the worst.

But it wasn’t my daughter. In a crowded room that sounded like a hospital, a woman informed me that she was using my daughter’s phone because my daughter was hurt and in the emergency room. That initiated a panicked sequence of the caller asking me to talk louder and me screaming for more information. Frustrated, the caller hung up.

Frantic, I called back, but it went to voicemail.

I texted my daughter, no response.

I sent my daughter an email, the minutes ticked by while I refreshed an empty inbox.

In that instant, I realized that I had no way to find my NYC-based daughter. I didn’t know her work colleagues and her business didn’t have a receptionist. Employees used their own cell phones.

I searched her company’s website and LinkedIn for an HR contact. I found the cell phone for an HR rep and called her.

It went to voicemail.

I found an HR email address and sent an email labeled EMERGENCY, URGENT, Help—asking them to confirm that my daughter was at work.

Within 10 minutes, my daughter called. She had been in a meeting away from her cell phone or computer.

It was a curious malicious or spoofing call. The caller didn’t ask for money or information. If she was trying to record my voice, she would have only recorded screaming and I do not use voice recognition features.

Most frightening was that the caller knew to ghost my daughter’s phone even though we have a different last name.

I mentioned this to my aunt who had recently received a call from her “grandson” saying that he was hurt and needed money. My aunt is nobody’s fool, so she told the caller to hang up. She called her confused grandson back. He was fine. Another malicious call.

I have a very cautious friend who was spoofed by an “Apple Tech rep” informing her that a virus had invaded her Apple computer and they were tasked with removing it. The “rep” only needed some personal information…in time she realized that it was a spoofing call.

My financial advisor is now notified when a client requests a suspicious wire transfer. He calls the client and talks him through the request, typically a malicious call. He has saved his clients thousands of dollars.

The FCC says that unfortunately these malicious and spoofing calls will only get worse. VoIP calls are inexpensive and there is virtually no accountability, many are generated overseas.

We all get them.

I personally have been informed that my credit card has been compromised, that the IRS has put a lien against my property and my personal favorite, that the sheriff is coming to arrest for me an outstanding warrant. Think about it. Why would the sheriff call to make sure that I was home before he comes to arrest me?

My call was taken to another level because the spoofer knew both our numbers and our relationship.

The data was probably obtained from hacking my cellphone supplier’s website (since my daughter’s cell phone is on my plan). Verizon confirmed me that the information most likely came from a hack of their site but insisted that only my account had been hacked.

So far, I only lost a ½ hour of panic. But I know that others have lost more…so here is some advice I learned from the Verizon fraud representative.

If you get a call saying that a child or grandchild needs money, hang up and call back.

Unless you can personally verify the information, do not send money and do not give up identification codes.

My daughter was embarrassed because her office went crazy checking on her to make sure that she was okay.

I was not sorry.

I was just being a mom.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

Op-Ed: Time to Ask More of Political Parties? By J.E. Dean

November 6, 2019 by J.E. Dean Leave a Comment

It may be the height of naivete to expect either major political party to do anything much beyond raising money and loosely structuring a process to nominate national candidates. A Senator who doesn’t even call himself a Democrat is now running for President with the full expectation that if he wins the primary process, he will be the party’s nominee. In 2016, candidate Trump declined to promise to support the party’s nominee and has routinely attacked Republican legislators that disagree with him. And, with rare exceptions, neither party does much in the way of ethics. State, local and national candidates can fudge the truth with the full confidence of no pushback from the national party.

The fruit of this sad situation is declining respect for the national parties. Even energetic Democrats, for example, will tell you they understand why Bernie Sanders declines to align himself as a co-partyist with a moderate like Joe Manchin. Similarly, Trump’s base readily buys into the President’s claim that that George W. Bush administration was “corrupt.” He has stepped in, without so much as a hint of opposition, and redefined the party’s long-standing positions on trade while at the same time openly exhibiting conduct and endorsing policies viewed as racist by at least some of his fellow Republicans.

Many today suggest the parties are “imploding” and becoming progressively less important to American Democracy. In part, this is because the traditional role of the party as a fundraising organization is being supplanted by the internet. Candidates like Sanders and Warren both appeal to and solicit funds from voters directly, using the internet as the means. The party neither polices their efforts nor does anything else relevant to it. The fundraising itself is measured by the Federal Election Commission. The messaging’s effectiveness is measured in national polls.

If this trend continues, its only a matter of time that a successful third party or independent candidate emerges. It could happen sooner than one might assume, especially if the dysfunction of both parties results in the nomination of candidates viewed by a critical mass as “out of the mainstream” or otherwise unacceptable. Next year’s elections could see this scenario. Just think of a Trump v. Warren election.

The deterioration of parties could have catastrophic effects on how the American Democracy works. Think of a Congress with several parties holding sizable voting blocks but with no majority. Think of a President freed from any thought of the impact of her actions on state and local elections. And think of the scenario where an independent President dies in office and a virtual unknown, a vice president selected with little thought or diligence, suddenly assumes office.

Examples of the benefits of having two, well-established national parties structure elections go far beyond my two examples. But, I would argue, their role does not go far enough. And, if you agree the current system is breaking apart, rapidly but not irreversibly, it may be time to ask the national parties to assume a much larger role in policing elections.

Here are a few suggestions:

The parties should be required to comment on accuracy of fact assertions made by their own candidates. If Trump claims Chinese imports exceed $ 10 trillion per year, the Republican party should call him on it. Few candidates will want to be corrected by their own party. Most likely a trend towards more research and diligence will follow.

The parties should issue budget estimates for all policy proposals put forth by major candidates. If the numbers do not add up, as is the case for Elizabeth Warren’s many “plans,” the party would say so, perhaps issuing its own estimates.

Candidates that violate a specified set of party values would lose their right to run as a candidate of the party. For example, if the Republicans adopted a “value” condemning racism, a suggestion that most Mexicans are rapists would get a candidate making such a statement tossed from the party.

Candidates would have to meet minimum qualifications and meet specified requirements to run for President. Candidates failing would be denied the support of the party. An example of how this might work may be found in national parties establishing rules for which candidates get to participate in national debates. Among the requirements would be the release of 10 years of tax returns. Specifying qualifications is more complex but perhaps should include things such as a minimum number of years in government or working closely with it.

I could go on with the list, but the idea is simple. Political parties must take ownership of the candidates that run under their banner. While this might cause some attractive candidates to defect and possibly run as independents, the long-term impact would be to make the party label mean something. Voters could be confident that if candidate X was the Democratic candidate, an organization of competent, publicly minded experts have reviewed them and found them meritorious. Think of this as an imprimatur for candidates or and endorsement from Consumer Reports.

What happens if parties take on the task of better policing candidates and their proposals and do so incompetently or with bias? Count on the press to call them on it. A party guilty of not performing these new roles would be identified as a failure by the press, something that hopefully would jeopardize their existence and encourage candidates to look elsewhere for a party with which to affiliate.

Is all this naïve? Maybe. But what is definitely naïve is to let the current system, the one that brought us Trump and that might very well have resulted in a giant like Beto O’Rourke getting a national nomination for President, continue to operate the way it does.

American Democracy needs parties, but those parties are not doing their job. They could soon disappear if they don’t embrace accountability.

J.E. Dean of Oxford is a retired attorney and public affairs consultant. He is a former counsel to the House Committee on Education and Labor. For more than 30 years, he advised clients on federal education and social service policy.

Profiles in Cowardice by Al Sikes

November 6, 2019 by Al Sikes 4 Comments

Pardon my nausea. President Trump’s often egregious behavior is on trial, and the prosecutors are not winning. Conviction looks impossible absent the emergence of felonious conduct. And Trump’s Ad-makers are attempting to define his conduct, “tough guy” in “tough times.”

Post-impeachment (indictment) we will be left with social/political distemper. Rather than candidates being forced to address issues, the election will be almost exclusively about Trump. More alarmingly, his conduct, if not rising to a convictable offense, will lower still further standards of political conduct.

Benjamin Disraeli, an iconic British Prime Minister, called politics a “greasy pole.” Indeed. But in America, history rewards those who, even though imperfect in their climb, strived to overcome their imperfections. It was thought, hopefully still is, that an elected leader can come back from a fall if he/she will yield to an aspirational set of values and show a modest amount of remorse.

Okay, aspirational values, what does that mean? I believe “truth” in politics is an aspirational value. Fair play—well hard to define. Passing up the cookie jar, for certain, embezzlement is not favored. Consult Proverbs and come up with your own list.

Trump understands two things well. He is the leader of a tribe called Republicans whose elected officials want nothing more than to be reelected. Fear is his weapon. A loyal cadre is his spear.

And he understands news biases and cycles. He excoriates the news outlets that tend to shape the news around their biases. They become the enemy, and unfortunately, they are an easy one. Twitter gives him a very useful weapon. He can use it to create the news cycle—he is hours ahead of them. He also is a good whiner. He couches his tweets in inflammatory language and picks his targets from the Tribe’s enemies list. In Republican circles, the New York Times tops the list.

His behavior, to me, sets a new low in the conduct of a political leader. But his enemies need to understand the game and the opponent. While they confer, he tweets. While they seek some operational consensus, he is a consensus of one with his elected followers (at least most of them) awaiting White House instruction. He has set new standards of political conduct, and even those in his Party who despise him quiver in the corner fearful they will lose their job if they talk back. Profiles in cowardice.

This predatory set of values will not be removed through a legal process; it will only succumb to a political one. The voters are going to have to lead the leaders.

I will repeat my recommendation one more time. Put this conduct to a vote. Strive to get some level of bi-partisanship by moving from impeachment to censure and then force the tribal leaders to go on record about conduct, not removal from office just months before the election.

Al Sikes is the former Chair of the Federal Communications Commission under George H.W. Bush. Al recently published Culture Leads Leaders Follow published by Koehler Books.

Out and About (Sort of): Breakout by Howard Freedlander

November 5, 2019 by Howard Freedlander Leave a Comment

After a year of hibernating, fearful of traveling burdened with balance and dizziness problems already chronicled in this column the past August, I broke out of my self-imposed geographical isolation and journeyed two weeks ago with my wife to Wickenburg. AZ.

Yea, I did it, with no incident. Upon arriving home from the five-day trip, I felt full of childish delight.

Life is lived amid small victories. I’m ready for more travel and exploration, conceding my limited mobility, while propelled by motivation, assisted by a cane and supported by my wife.

Heading to the Barn

For many years, we have traveled to Rancho de los Caballeros, a guest ranch located nearly 65 miles northwest of Phoenix, AZ in a town that touts itself as the team roping capital of America. The town and surrounding Sonoran Desert bear absolutely no resemblance to the Eastern Shore.

We picked our favorite dude ranch resort for our breakout because it’s comfortable, we love the venue and dry terrain and like the owners. The ranch resort has been family-owned since 1947. We’re partial to seasoned tradition and reliable hospitality.

Wickenburg has gained a reputation for its rehabilitation facilities for people dealing with addictions. I can understand why a quest for recovery might be successful in an area known for pleasant weather (except in the summer) and an environment conducive for self-renewal.

Ironically, I too was rehabbing my psyche, striving to build my confidence to leave my home, deal with the inconvenience of traveling by air these days and then enjoy a destination that lifts your spirits. It worked.

Another breakout of sorts happened as well. It was unpleasant and aggravating.

Deciding to spend the night before our early-morning flight out of BWI Airport at a nearby hotel, we drove on a rainy Sunday, Oct. 20 to the Western Shore. And we encountered a dreary, clogged mess on Route 50: it took us two hours, 40 minutes to cross the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, instead of a normal 40 minutes. On the way home on Friday, October. 25, the delay was a mere 15 minutes.

I pity the daily commuters who must endure the disruption caused by the two-year redecking project on the west span. It’s easy to feel imprisoned by a project that directly affects your lifestyle—despite understanding the overriding need for a safe bridge.

Prickly Pear Cactus

I digressed.

Metaphorically, I crossed a mental bridge two weeks ago. I realized that a medical condition, though frustrating, is just another obstacle to overcome in enjoying the delight of traveling (not the coming and going) and refreshing your soul and emotional well-being.

Fear is natural when confronted unexpectedly by a restrictive medical challenge. Perseverance is a time-proven antidote. Armed with a different perspective, I marveled at the resilience of fellow passengers, including a young man with a prosthetic leg.

More than 2,400 miles from Easton, Rancho de los Caballeros in Wickenburg, AZ provided an ideal place to feed the soul and redirect my thinking about traveling with a non-fatal but chronic medical condition.

My doubts disappeared.

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